


Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

by justhockey



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e16 Coda, Evan “Buck” Buckley deserves the world, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Insecure Evan "Buck" Buckley, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: He kind of figures that it would be worse to try and fail, than to not try at all. He’s so scared of having another person leave him that it’s just easier to not get close to anyone.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 764
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Skinny Love_ by Bon Iver.
> 
> Content warning in end notes

_The last thing you want is to be at the end, holding nothing but regrets._

It echoes over and over in Buck’s head, long after Red’s heart stops beating and Buck has to say goodbye to yet another person that he cares about. He can’t stop hearing it, like a reminder of how incomplete he feels. 

He hadn’t realised at first, but it clicked pretty fast that Buck felt so connected to Red because he saw himself in him. Just like Buck, his team and his job had been everything to him, to the point where it drove everything else away. Buck was going to end up old and lonely, drinking by himself in bars and talking to anyone who would listen about the good old days. 

He’s just so tired of being left behind. 

His parents never really wanted him around, Maddie left him _twice_ , Ali walked away, and Abby left and cut off all contact with him. Buck has never been very good at maths but it doesn’t take much for him to figure out that he’s the common denominator. People aren’t just _leaving,_ they’re leaving _him_ specifically. 

It cuts deeper than it probably should, because really, hasn’t he known this all along? It’s not like the people in his life have ever been shy about making it clear that he’s the problem.

_Just stay away from me, I’m not sure I can survive your help._

_So it’s all about you?_

_Because you’re exhausting._

_That’s all you see._

He’s so selfish all the time, and he hates himself for it because he never means to be, he only ever wants to help. And maybe that makes it even worse; he’s so self absorbed that he can’t even recognise when he _is_ being selfish. 

Buck wants to change. He wants to do better so he stops hurting the people that he loves, so that they stop leaving him, but he just doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know what it is about him that drives people away, why he’s never been good enough, not even for his own family. 

And he’s a coward too, probably, because he could always ask. He’s certain that Chim and Eddie and even Maddie would have no issue with telling him exactly what he does that’s so wrong, they’d no doubt love to get it off their chest. But he’s too afraid to hear the answers. 

What if it’s not even something he can change? What if, instead of it being something that he _does,_ it’s just who he _is?_ Buck isn’t sure that he could take that kind of knowledge, thinks it would probably push him over the cliff edge it feels like he’s balancing on. 

It just feels like he has so much to give. He has all of this love, affection, support, building up inside of him, with no one who wants it. No one who wants _him._

He’s so lonely. Buck hates feeling vulnerable so it’s not something he likes to admit, not even to himself, but it’s true. The 118 are like a family and Buck loves them with all of his heart, would give his life for any one of them in the blink of an eye, but they all have someone else. 

At the end of the day Bobby goes home to Athena, the kids, and even Michael. Hen has Karen, Denny, and their gorgeous foster daughter. Chimney has Albert and Maddie, Maddie has Chimney and Albert. Then there’s Eddie, who gets to go home after every shift and hold Christopher in his arms. And of course Eddie tells Buck he’s always welcome there, but he can’t help but feel like an imposter who they tolerate because they feel sorry for him. 

So everyone has someone except Buck. No matter how bad the shift, no matter how long the day, he always has to go home to an apartment so empty it feels suffocating. 

It feels a lot like when he was a kid and he learned that his best friend in the whole world had another best friend, a better one than Buck. It’s kind of embarrassing really, that it’s been happening all of his life and it still hurts him. Maybe his dad had been right when he used to call him a pansy and tell him to _man up._ Maybe Buck just needs to get over it. 

So he tries. God, he tries _so_ hard to just let it all go. 

Maddie promises that he’ll never be left behind as she curls her pinky finger around his and smiles with tears in her eyes. Buck knows she believes what she’s saying, but she’d promised him that once before too.

(He was fifteen years old when Maddie just upped and left. And he gets it, of course he does. Their parents were cold and overbearing, and the weight of their expectations was just too heavy for anyone to carry. So he understands why Maddie left home. But she just _disappeared_ on him, and he didn’t see her again until he was almost twenty and fresh off the plane back from South America. 

She’d wrapped him in her arms and begged for his forgiveness and promised that she’d never leave him again. Then things got bad with Doug and she cut him off for a second time. And he’d never even consider blaming her for what happened, but he could have helped, he could have kept her safe, and she didn’t trust him enough to let him.)

So he knows she means it when she says it, but he also knows that things change, and if push comes to shove she’ll leave him again if she has to. He’s not her priority anymore.

Buck isn’t _anyone’s_ priority. 

The team try and reassure him that they’re never going to lose touch even if some of them were to be transferred, but he has a hard time believing that. Not with placating, pitying smiles they give him, and the way they barely have time for each other outside of work as it is. They have lives and families, and Buck has no one. 

It isn’t lost on him that it’s his own fault. He could try harder to find someone, work on himself more so not everyone feels compelled to abandon him, but. He kind of figures that it would be worse to try and fail, than to not try at all. He’s so scared of having another person leave him that it’s just easier to not get close to anyone. 

Or, that’s what he tells himself, at least. 

It’s mostly true, really. But if he was to admit to the _other_ reason he’s stopped trying to find someone, he’d buckle under the weight of it. Because that’s just too much, too heavy, too _important._

Eddie and Christopher are his favourite people in the world and he feels blessed for every single second he gets to spend in their company. He knows he already takes up too much of their time, is selfish with their attention, and yet he can’t help but want more. 

Buck loves Eddie, loves him like the beach at the end of the summer, and a winter sunset, and a lazy Sunday morning. He loves him with every broken, jagged piece of his heart, but he’s too afraid of hurting Eddie with the fragments of it if he were to ever let him see. He’s also too afraid of losing the best thing he’s ever had over feelings that could never be reciprocated. 

But it’s starting to ache, now. When all three of them are hanging out together Buck just feels like an outsider, and when Eddie invites him round for dinner and a movie he knows it’s out of sympathy. Buck is forcing his company on them and Eddie lets him because he’s so good, so _selfless._ But Eddie doesn’t deserve that and neither does Christopher, and Buck thinks he should probably start preserving what remains of his heart before he ruins it entirely. 

So he starts to take a step back from them. 

When Eddie asks if he’s coming over for dinner, Buck declines. When he extends Buck an invite to Christopher’s first sleepover, he makes an excuse. It’s just easier for both of them that way. Eddie doesn’t have to put up with Buck so often, and Buck doesn’t have to pretend like he isn’t breaking every time he’s around them. It works. 

Until it doesn’t. 

“You know what, it’s fine Buck, you disappoint Christopher again, it’s no big deal,” Eddie huffs, waving Buck away. 

Buck’s chest tightens because he knows that tone of voice, has heard it directed at him before and had hoped he’d never have to hear it again. 

But they’re changing in the locker room after a twenty-four hour shift and Eddie had asked if Buck wanted to pick Christopher up from school with him, and he has to say no. He’s already spent one evening with the Diaz’s this week, and that’s all he’s allowing himself now. It’s best for all of them, he has to keep telling himself, even though it doesn’t always feel like that, especially when Eddie is mad at him. 

“I’m not trying to disappoint him-“ 

And he’s not. He’s really, _really_ not. He loves Christopher so much, he’d do anything to see that kid smile, and the last thing in the world he ever wants to do is fail him. Buck knows he’s already let Christopher and Eddie down more times than he can stomach thinking about. 

“And yet you’re doing it anyway,” Eddie says. 

“Eddie-“

“Just save it, yeah?” Eddie slams the door of his locker closed and then storms out.

Buck is breathless, like he’s just done a training exercise in full kit. There’s a pain spreading across his chest, the tips of his fingers are starting to tingle, and the taste in his mouth is metallic from where he’s bitten his lip so hard it’s drawn blood.

The first time he felt this way was the day after the tsunami, when he woke up screaming Christopher’s name. He thought it was another embolism, but then he didn’t collapse so he ignored it. Then he felt it again when he saw his family standing in that elevator, watching the door slide shut between them. And again, and again. When the dispatch centre was held hostage, when the mud buried Eddie 40ft underground. Again and again. 

It’s familiar now, he knows it like the back of his hand. Which is why he knows he needs to get out of there. 

He leaves the station and finds his way to his car, avoiding meeting anyone’s eye along the way. Once the door is shut and he’s behind the wheel he gives himself thirty seconds, thirty seconds to breathe and to get it together, then he drives home. 

Buck is crying by the time his shaking hands push open the door to his apartment, and he feels dizzy from how shallow his breathing is. But he’s used to this, and he’s used to weathering it alone. 

He sits down on the couch, leaning forward to put his head between his knees. He’d read somewhere online that it helps with dizziness and panic attacks. Because that’s what he’s having, a panic attack. As if he didn’t already feel like enough of a failure, he had to go and add anxiety to his list of issues. 

Fuck, it’s no wonder nobody wants him. 

_In. Out._

He squeezes his fists tight and focuses on the way his nails dig into the palms of his hands. It grounds him, gives him something else to focus on besides the pain in his chest and the sense of dread that looms over him like a shadow. 

_In. Out._

He’s such an _idiot._ Everything he does always backfires, always ends up being selfish and stupid and damaging, even when all he’s doing is trying to make things better. 

Buck thinks he probably needs something to make _him_ better, but alcohol just makes the anxiety worse and it’s not like he has anyone he can talk to about it. He just keeps it hidden away, locked in a box and pushed to the furthest corner of his mind, where he keeps his parents, and Abby, and his feelings for Eddie. He can’t keep being selfish, it isn’t always about him. 

_In. Out._

His breathing has started to even out now, and the tingling in his hands has begun to subside. He slowly sits up and let’s his head rest on the back of the couch, eyes still tightly closed. It’s the same every time, he’s found. He’s always scared to open his eyes afterwards because he looks around his empty apartment and things are exactly the same, which is kind of the whole problem. 

So Buck sits there for a while, staring at the insides of his eyelids, letting his hands rest on his stomach and feeling it rise and fall with every shaking breath. His neck and the collar of his t-shirt are wet with tears, and he knows he needs to change and eat something, but he just stays motionless, too sad and lonely to return back to reality quite yet. 

He isn’t sure how long he stays there for, after every attack he feels sluggish and heavy, like he’s wading through water or mud. Time always feels altered as well, like it goes by too slowly or too fast, but never in between. Never quite right. 

He must have fallen asleep, because a knock at the door jolts him awake. Outside the sun has set, and his apartment is dark now. There’s another knock, so he stands up, rubbing at his bleary eyes and flicking on the lights as he makes his way over to the door. He hadn’t locked it when he arrived home, but he’s honestly just glad he managed to close it behind him. 

When he swings it open, Eddie is standing in the doorway. He’s chewing at his bottom lip and his eyebrows are furrowed like he’s thinking too hard. Buck’s heart rate spikes with fear. 

“We need to talk,” Eddie says, pushing into the apartment. 

“Are you okay? Is _Christopher_ okay?” Buck asks, convinced that the only reason Eddie would show up was if something was wrong. 

Buck’s voice comes out scratchy and dry from all the crying earlier, and in the light of the apartment Eddie appraises him. He looks at Buck so intently that he immediately feels self conscious. Buck shrinks in on himself, wrapping his arms protectively around his torso. He knows he must look wrecked, with swollen eyes and messy hair from where he’d tugged at it earlier. 

Eddie’s shoulders droop.

“Christopher is sleeping at Abuela’s, we’re both fine,” he confirms, and Buck breathes out a sigh of relief. “But you’re not.”

Buck freezes. 

“Me? You know I’m always fine, Eddie,” he says. 

He opens his arms out and shrugs his shoulders, flashing Eddie a hollow grin. It honestly kind of worries him how easily he’s able to turn this persona on, how easy it is to pretend that he’s okay. Buck thinks he’s spent so long pretending that he can’t even figure out whether his own feelings are real or not, sometimes. He’s not sure where the facade ends and Buck begins. 

The smile Eddie gives him is sad. 

“Buck, no you’re not.”

“Eddie, look man, I’m fine,” Buck tries to reassure him.

He can’t do this. He can’t have this conversation, not when he already exhausts Eddie so much. He has a kid at home and real problems to worry about and Buck can’t let Eddie worry about him, too. It’s not fair. 

“God Evan, I’m _so_ sorry,” Eddie says, and his voice cracks.

Buck tries to laugh, tries to keep the mood light, because if they go down this path Buck is scared they won’t be able to find their way back. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about man, I’m okay,” Buck says, and he almost believes himself. Almost. 

“Stop,” Eddie says, and his voice is loud and firm, and Buck flinches. “Please, just stop lying to me.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say. He knows he wants to fix this, make Eddie stop looking at him with that wounded expression, but he doesn’t know what the right words are. He needs to be convincing, but not selfish, or difficult, or annoying. Except that’s all his personality is made up of so he doesn’t know what to do or say to make Eddie believe him. 

“I’m not,” he says, but even Buck knows it sounds like a lie. 

Eddie looks like he might start crying and Buck hates that he’s responsible. 

“Can we sit down, please?” Eddie asks, gesturing towards the couch.

He wants to say no. He wants to tell Eddie he’s absolutely fine and then ask him to leave so they can forget any of this ever happened. But his head feels heavy, he’s tired down to his bones, and he’s in desperate need of company, even if he knows this is going to be painful. 

So Buck nods and shuffles back over to the couch, then waits until Eddie is standing next to him before sitting down. Eddie sits beside him, with no more than a foot of room between them. It’s too far and not far enough all at the same; half of Buck wants to move further away, and the other half wants to press against Eddie like a cat looking for affection. 

“You wanna tell me what this is about?” Buck asks. 

He’s going for light hearted but he misses by a mile, and instead just sounds anxious, needy. Too much. He winces at his own voice, instantly regretting the words. 

Eddie tucks one leg underneath him and turns so he’s facing Buck, letting his arm stretch out along the back of the couch. The sad smile is gone now, and he just looks plain devastated. His eyes are swimming with unshed tears and Buck’s hand twitches with the urge to reach out to him and make everything better. He doesn’t. He just shifts slightly so his body is angled towards Eddie’s, but focuses on a spot somewhere just behind his head so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. 

“I owe you an apology,” Eddie tells him. 

Buck immediately frowns. Eddie hasn’t done anything to Buck, he never does anything wrong _period._

“What? No-“

“-yes,” Eddie interrupts him. “I’m your best friend, I should have noticed that you weren’t okay.”

Buck looks down at his lap and begins playing nervously with his hands. He hates the way he melts as soon as Eddie calls him his best friend, and he hates even more that he’s made him think he owes Buck any kind of apology. Buck is the selfish one here, not Eddie. 

“Eddie, I’m really fine.”

Eddie sighs and runs a hand through his hair. For a second Buck is worried that he’s angered him, but when he dares to make eye contact he just looks guilty. 

“You’ve been pulling away for weeks, and instead of coming to you to ask what was wrong, I just got pissed at you,” Eddie explains. “And what I said today was completely out of line, I know how much you love Christopher.”

Buck just shrugs. He’s afraid that if he tries to speak his voice will betray everything he’s feeling. 

“I should have known something wasn’t right. It was actually Christopher who had to point it out to me.”

Buck looks up at that, and Eddie must read the question in his eyes because he smiles softly then continues. 

“I told him that you couldn’t come today, and he asked me why you were so sad all the time,” he pauses, searching Buck’s eyes for a moment. “When I asked him why he thought that you were sad, he said the last time you didn’t want to play with him was when you had to stop being a firefighter.” 

Buck feels his heart squeeze with love and adoration and so much _guilt._ Christopher is just a kid, he shouldn’t have to bear any of Buck’s pain like that. He deserves so much better than Buck has been giving him. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck apologises. 

“Jesus Buck, you haven’t done anything wrong, ok? Not a single thing. This is on _me._ Or, all of us, I guess. But I’m supposed to be your best friend, so I should have known.”

Buck shakes his head and opens his mouth to protest, but he can’t quite make the words sound right in his head. He doesn’t know how to explain to someone as selfless as Eddie that this isn’t his responsibility, that _Buck_ isn’t his responsibility. 

Eddie is patient though. He can see that Buck wants to say something, so he waits for Buck to figure it out in his head. 

“None of you have done anything wrong, ok? It’s just me, I know I can be a lot sometimes. But it doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” 

Eddie laughs at that, but the expression on his face makes it clear that he doesn’t find any of what Buck just said funny. 

“Evan, we’ve been failing you for months,” Eddie says, reaching a hand out a hand and resting it on Buck’s knee. “I’m just so, _so_ sorry it took me until now to realise.” 

He gets that sensation in his chest where it feels like your heart literally misses a beat. Tears spring to his eyes and Buck coughs a little, shifting awkwardly in his seat to try and settle himself. He feels like Eddie has just taken a hammer and broken him open with a few simple words. And Buck wants to grab all of the pieces of himself and shove them back inside so Eddie can’t see them, but the look on his face tells him it’s already too late. 

“That’s not true, Eddie, come on, you guys could never fail me,” Buck says. 

And he genuinely means it, but the words taste kind of bitter as they leave his mouth and for some reason, saying them doesn’t quite sit right in his chest. 

“Buck, you could have died under that ladder truck, and we just put some tape over the name on your locker and carried on.”

He knows Eddie isn’t trying to hurt him, he’s fairly certain he’s aiming for the exact opposite, but those words feel like a knife straight to his heart. 

“Then you almost died in the tsunami, saving my son and countless other people, yet we _still_ made you feel excluded,” Eddie says, his voice sounding as broken as Buck feels. 

That isn’t fair though, because Buck was the one that fucked up. Neither Eddie, nor anyone else from the 118, should be carrying that weight when it wasn’t their fault. 

“I tried to sue the department, I made Bobby look like the bad guy and risked my friendship with all of you,” Buck all but whispers. “That was entirely on me.” 

It’s Eddie’s turn to shake his head this time, and he uses the hand that isn’t resting on Buck’s knee to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He looks like he sometimes does when Christopher is in one of his moods and Eddie doesn’t know how to get through to him. 

“But you were _right_ Buck! You were ready to come back and Bobby still stopped it from happening,” he says, holding up his hand to silence Buck when he tries to interrupt. “I love Bobby, but that time he was wrong, and we made you feel like the bad guy for trying to make it back to us.”

Buck’s spine feels like it turns to ice as Eddie speaks. It’s like he _wants_ to feel some kind of relief at hearing Eddie say that, but he’s almost too frightened to. Eddie is finally seeing Buck’s side of things, but they had all spent so long telling Buck he was in the wrong that he’d started to believe it, and now he’s got no idea what he’s supposed to think or feel. 

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Buck admits. 

Eddie squeezes his knee slightly, and somehow it manages to comfort Buck a little. He’s not angry at him. He _understands._

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises, “I know this is probably a lot to hear. It’s just, I can’t believe I spent so long not seeing all of this, and then once it clicked I just couldn’t wait, I had to see you.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. 

It’s kind of been his default response to everything since he was a kid. He’s so used to fucking up and having to say sorry that an apology is always on the edge of his tongue. He’s not sure what he’s sorry for this time, but there’s probably something he should be apologising for.

Eddie laughs. It’s normally Buck’s favourite sound in the world but this time it sounds empty and sad. Slowly, the hand that Eddie has stretched out along the back of the couch moves, his fingers briefly brushing the side of Buck’s neck. He clenches his jaw, trying not to cry at the gentle touch. It’s been forever since someone was gentle with him. 

“You need to stop apologising,” Eddie says. “I wasted so much time being angry at you, that I didn’t realise _you_ were the only one who had any right to feel angry.”

It’s a strange sensation, having his feelings validated like that. Buck is just kind of used to people dismissing them. His heart is hammering against his rib cage and his whole body is starting to ache with holding it so tense. He doesn’t know what to say or do. 

“I never wanted to make you mad,” Buck tells Eddie. 

“I know, I know that Buck, and it wasn’t your fault. I just missed you _so much,_ and Christopher did too. I’d gotten so used to having you around that it felt like part of me was missing when I couldn’t talk to you, but that doesn’t make my behaviour okay.”

Buck feels like crying. His heart is twisting in his chest and he desperately wants to reach out to Eddie. He’s saying all the things he has wanted to hear for so long, but unless Buck gets his shit together he’s going to ruin it all again by letting Eddie see how he feels. He thinks that maybe things will be ok again, or better, at least, as long as he keeps his emotions in check. 

“It just felt like I was being left behind,” Buck confesses. 

Admitting to that makes him feel more vulnerable than he has all night, and he can’t look at Eddie when he says it. He feels pathetic, needy, overbearing. But they’re spilling their truths tonight, so Buck figures he may as well get everything out there that he can stand to share. 

The hand that had brushed against Buck’s neck now tangles gently in his hair as tears slip from Eddie’s eyes. 

“Lo siento mi amor, lo siento mucho,” Eddie murmurs.

_I’m sorry my love, I’m so sorry._

Buck clenches his jaw at the term of endearment, knows it doesn’t mean anything. And he can’t help but feel guilty yet again, for making Eddie cry. He doesn’t ever want to hurt him. 

“Don’t be sorry, it was selfish.”

And if Buck thought Eddie looked hurt before, he looks outright fucking _devastated_ now. He leans forward and tugs on Buck’s hair so he meets him halfway, their foreheads resting together. It’s so sweet and intimate that Buck’s breath catches in his throat. 

“ _Evan,_ ” he whispers brokenly, “you are the most selfless person I’ve ever known, you couldn’t be selfish even if you tried.”

They stay in the moment for a few seconds, then separate just a little so they can see each other. The way Eddie looks at him, square in the eye with a determined set his jaw, it’s like he’s begging Buck to believe him. But Buck has never been called that before. _Selfless._ It’s always been the exact opposite. He opens his mouth to argue, it doesn’t feel right to hear those words about him, but Eddie’s hand on his leg tightens almost painfully. 

“No, don’t you dare argue with me,” he commands. “I’m so fucking sorry that we, that _I_ , ever let you think that about yourself, okay? Because it’s _not_ true, Buck. It just isn’t.”

He wants to cry, or scream, or throw something.

He’d spent what felt like forever telling himself he’d made the right choices, but everyone else had been so certain that what he’d done was wrong, that eventually he just accepted that it was. It feels good, that what he had thought all along was finally being confirmed by the person who’s opinion matters most to him. But it also feels beyond frustrating, that it took so long for them to reach this point. 

“I think I’m a little bit angry at you,” Buck admits.

He waits nervously for Eddie’s response. He doesn’t want to undo all of the progress it feels like they’ve been making, but is it really progress if Buck can’t be honest about how he feels? He thinks keeping things hidden would just make everything worse anyway. He doesn’t want to continue to bottle up these feelings and let them continue to gnaw away at him, so it’s better to rip the bandaid off all in one go. 

Eddie laughs quietly and lets his thumb brush over Buck’s jaw. 

“I’m angry at me too, Buck,” Eddie agrees. 

And that feels good. Not that Eddie is angry, but that this time he really listens to what Buck is saying. He thinks that maybe if they had just communicated better in the first place then a lot of this wouldn’t have happened. 

“I did do some things wrong though, handle certain situations badly,” Buck says. “I don’t want you to think that this whole thing is on you, or the team.”

The smile Eddie gives him is the first genuine one Buck thinks he’s seen in weeks. It lifts a heaviness that he hadn’t realised had been weighing on his heart. 

“I think we all should have communicated better,” Eddie agrees. 

Buck lets out a laugh of pure relief, and it’s real, and light, and it feels so good that he almost cries. 

“Come here,” Eddie says. 

He’s smiling as he opens his arms wide, and Buck falls into them easily. 

It feels easier than it has in weeks, just to be in Eddie’s company. Buck is leaning against Eddie’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, and it should feel strange, that they’ve crossed some hidden line or broken some unwritten rule, but it just feels _right_. He’s maybe a little scared, that this is going to toy with his feelings, but that somehow feels easier to deal with now. He can handle it. 

They enjoy the silence and each other’s embrace for a while, before Buck finally speaks again. 

“Thank you for apologising.”

As much as they had both agreed to move on months ago, Buck knows that a lot of his anxiety stemmed from the way he’d been treated during the lawsuit. He constantly felt like he needed to walk on eggshells around Eddie and the team, always feeling like he was only one mistake from being tossed aside again. He’s certain that they could have never fully moved on from it all without having this conversation. 

Eddie squeezes him a little closer. 

“Thank you for letting me,” Eddie replies, “and thank you for being honest about how you feel.”

Buck worries that he’s deceiving Eddie, by not telling him how he really feels about him. But it feels like they’ve reached some sort of careful understanding that he doesn’t think is worth shaking. Eddie doesn’t need to know he’s in love with him, it wouldn’t change anything except to maybe make things uncomfortable between them again. 

So he doesn’t say anything, he just keeps silent and still while Eddie holds him close. It’s something that he hadn’t known he’d been missing until Eddie offered it up so freely to him, but now that Buck thinks back, he can’t remember the last time he received such easy affection. It makes Buck’s heart hurt a little, and he thinks he would probably cry if he wasn’t so exhausted. 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie whispers. 

Buck just hums in response, too tired and comfortable to even open his eyes. Maybe he’s greedy for letting himself enjoy this, but he’s starting to think that sometimes that’s okay. 

“Seeing as we’re being honest about feelings,” Eddie continues, making Buck still instantly. “I think you should know that the reason I was so angry I couldn’t talk to you during the lawsuit, was because I’m sort of in love with you.”

It’s like everything just. Stops. Suddenly there’s no noise from the traffic outside, his neighbours music gets turned off, everything is just silent, like the whole world is trying to listen. 

Buck’s pretty sure his brain shuts down for a second.

When he pulls out of Eddie’s arms to look at him, he’s watching Buck with a cautious smile. Buck doesn’t know what to say, or do, or think. Because this feels like everything he’s ever wanted being handed to him on a silver platter, but could it really be true? He knows Eddie wouldn’t purposely mess with him, but it just feels impossible that someone like Eddie could feel that way about someone like Buck. It’s unfathomable.

“What?” Buck manages to choke out. 

Eddie smiles. “I love you, Evan, and I think you love me too.”

_Oh._

“What made you, I mean, how did you-“ Buck fumbles over his words. 

Eddie grins at him as he takes hold of his hands, and Buck forgets everything else for a second. 

“How did I know you felt the same?” Eddie clarifies, and Buck nods. “I think probably after the kid down the drain, but it took me understanding what had gone wrong between us, and why it affected you so much, to really get it.”

Buck knows what he means. The video of Buck scrambling in the dirt, clawing at the mud that was suffocating Eddie, had been all over the news. He knew it was obvious, how he was feeling. But no one had mentioned anything, and he was grateful for it. 

“I knew after the bomb,” he continues, “how I felt about you. Seeing you lying there and not being able to go to you, it nearly killed me. I couldn’t ignore it any more.”

He can’t believe it. Can’t process that Eddie could love him at _all_ , let alone for that long. But Eddie’s face is so open as he tells Buck, that he knows he’s being truthful. Buck’s throat feels tight and his palms go clammy in Eddie’s hands. 

“But then everything happened so fast, the tsunami and then the lawsuit, and I was so _mad_ because I loved you and it felt like you were betraying us. I was too blind to realise that it was the other way around.”

Buck feels breathless. He shifts in his seat, moves closer to Eddie and pulls their joined hands into his chest. 

“I was just trying to get back to you,” Buck says. 

“I know mi amor, I know that now. I’m sorry.”

His voice is no more than a whisper as he rests his forehead against Buck’s for the second time tonight. 

Eddie has been brave twice tonight. He’s the one who showed up to apologise, and he’s the one who admitted his feelings. So Buck decides it’s his turn to be brave, and ever so slowly he closes the remaining distance between them, allowing their lips to brush together in the most gentle of kisses. 

He’d thought he was too tired for crying, but tears fall from Buck’s eyes as Eddie holds his face between his hands and kisses him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. 

“I’ll never leave you behind,” Eddie whispers. 

And Buck believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: there’s a mild description of a panic attack early on, and there’s a lot of negative self talk regarding Buck’s perception of himself, but it starts to ease towards the end.
> 
> Sorry if this feels out of character but I’m starting to think that Buck is never going to get the apologies he deserves so I decided to write it myself :)


End file.
